


magically delicious gingersnaps (not clickbait)

by The_IPRE



Category: Archive 81 (Podcast)
Genre: Baking, Gen, Rituals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:00:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25570978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_IPRE/pseuds/The_IPRE
Summary: Sometimes, recipes and rituals aren't as dissimilar as one might think.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 35





	magically delicious gingersnaps (not clickbait)

**Author's Note:**

> *posts a81 fic* *posts a81 fic* *posts a81 fic*

“Are you sure that you didn’t just get this off of a normal recipe blog? Because I’m pretty sure that even though half the shit they make you scroll through for ad revenue might look like rituals, that doesn’t make it magic. It just means that people have weird hang-ups about the Dust Bowl or whatever.”

Nicholas spared a glare to Static Man, perched upon and partially phased through the countertop. The cabinets were getting scratched by the occasional roving tooth, but they were beat up enough already that it wasn’t a battle worth fighting. “Yes, I am sure, because I do my research."

“I’m just saying, it looks a lot like it’s going to make gingersnaps.”

“Well. You may have a point there, but that has no bearing on its validity as a ritual.”

“Fair enough. Got everything we need?”

“Yes. Flour left in an oven overnight at 220º, molasses from a half-empty bottle, eggs laid within a week of the ritual…” As Nicholas rattled off the ingredients, almost second-nature at this point from how many times he had checked over the page in his notebook, Static Man held up each item.

Nicholas couldn’t deny that he had a good point, though. Every ingredient looked like it could be for gingersnaps, just with some extra esoteric frippery. 

That did not matter, though, because he had checked and double-checked and cross-referenced the ritual – he was a professional, after all.

Also, if worst came to worst and it was all nonsense, Nicholas had always enjoyed gingersnaps.

“ _So_ ,” Static Man said, dragging out the word as he oozed from the countertop to stand next to Nicholas, looking over his shoulder at the notebook and so close that all of the hair on Nicholas stood on end. “I take dry ingredients, you take wet? Not sure how good I would be at cracking eggs with these puppies.” He flexed his hands a few times, and Nicholas privately admitted that he had a point. Static Man could be solid when he needed to, but delicacy wasn’t exactly his strong suit, especially not in this form.

“I would be amenable to that.” Nicholas went to turn the oven on, leaving the notebook open on the counter so that they could both read from it. In the small kitchen, morning light coming in through the window over the sink and casting a strangely shifting shadow behind Static Man, it felt domestic in a way that Nicholas hadn’t experienced in a long time.

He was never much of a romantic with his boyfriends, he was kept busy getting his degree, and in the past couple years of chasing down rituals, what most would consider real life was a bit more unrealistic for him. Nicholas was able to keep busy, moving from project to project and building and accumulating power, and by this point the feeling of measuring out brown sugar was uncommonly mundane.

“I wonder how many rituals do actually take the form of recipes,” Nicholas said, leaning on his cane as he bent to watch the measuring cup fill. 

Static Man’s buzzing and thoughtless humming cut off as his attention swivelled to Nicholas. Even though there was no way to tell that Static Man was looking at him, there was an undeniable feeling of being watched that came with raising of the hair on the back of his neck. “I mean, most rituals follow that basic form. Shit you need, how to put it together, _voila_. You just usually can’t eat the products.”

“Well, I would say that it happens more than you would think. Goats' hearts just aren’t exactly as pleasant as gingersnaps.” Nicholas tapped his leg for a moment before turning the mixer on, counting the seconds under his breath. Thirty-three seconds exactly, and he had gotten his internal clock quite accurate.

“I would definitely believe that.” There was a pause, but things weren’t quiet, not with the churning of the mixer and the clatter of jars and even the faint noises of birds outside. “Dude, smell this.”

Nicholas turned the mixer off as Static Man held a small container of ground cloves under his nose. He sputtered for a moment before inhaling, memories of poking tangerines full of cloves as a child suddenly coming back to him. He was never one for fancy designs and the cloves would inevitably hurt his fingers, even when he prepoked the rind with a toothpick, but the smell was always that of Thanksgiving and traditions. 

His eyes fluttered open to see Static Man- well, not staring at him, but still standing with a focus that Nicholas had come to recognize. “Is there any particular reason for having me smell those?”

“Nah, not really. I can’t smell, though, and I remember liking cloves. Wouldn’t want them to go to waste.” Static Man didn’t shrug so much as pass a shudder from one arm to the other, but Nicholas nodded after a moment. 

“Well. Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem dude! Besides, the dry ingredients are all measured out, so I think it’s time to mix ‘em together, yeah?” As Static Man went to screw the lid back onto the cloves, Nicholas glanced back over the notebook, even though he probably could have done the ritual in his sleep.

He had, actually, dreamed it the night before, step after step after step.

“That is correct.” Nicholas turned the mixer on and stepped aside, watching as Static Man scooped the dry ingredients in by quarter cups, dough thickening. 

Soon enough, it was ready to be scooped, and Nicholas and Static Man stood side by side, neatly portioning out the dough onto the two cookie sheets. “Did you ever do this kind of thing? Back when, ah-”

“I had a body? Nah, dude, I could not bake to save my life. Way too organized. I always got frustrated, didn’t measure shit, threw it all together by gut instinct. Turns out, my gut? Terrible instincts.”

Nicholas grinned at that. “It would seem so, what with its preference for Popeye’s.”

“Hey, dude, don’t come for Popeye’s like that,” Static Man said, falling back into the familiar pattern. “We both know that it’s not _good_ , or whatever, but it’s still good, you know? Guilty pleasures and shit. Besides, when you’ve only got so long to not be in a liminal dimension between realms, no need to worry about indigestion.”

“I cannot argue with that.” Nicholas moved one of the balls of dough slightly, neatening the lines of the star he was forming. “You _still_ eat it, though, even now that existence is more of a full-time occupation.”

A baring of dozens of teeth in what might be a smile. “What can I say, it’s comfort food.” Static Man scooped another cookie and buzzed out a hum. “I actually used to make cookies with my mom. Not a lot, but. She always let me measure the flour. Always argued over who got to put in the chocolate chips, though.”

“That...sounds nice.” Nicholas glanced at Static Man out of the corner of his eye, the the way most of his swirling teeth had condensed to the center of his form.

“Yeah, well, maybe if she had let me scoop the baking powder more often I would have had a healthier appreciation for following recipes. This look ready?”

The dough was arranged in a star with a single ball of dough in the center, as per the ritual instructions. Shame that they had to make so much dough when only the central cookie was actually what was needed, but if Nicholas was put off by wastefulness in rituals he would not have come nearly this far.

“Yes. Just give me a moment, and-”

“No problem, dude.” Static Man leaned against the counter as Nicholas formed and placed the final two cookies. “Can you get the oven?”

“Of course.”

Static Man carried both trays over, sliding them onto the prepared racks. His hands clipped through the metal but he just shook them out with a ripple shivering across his form, stepping back to let Nicholas close the oven. “Best thing about this form? No need for oven mitts.”

“Most people don’t need oven mitts to actually put things into the oven,” Nicholas said, starting a ten minute timer on his phone. 

“Yeah, well, most people don’t have a rockin’ static not-bod.”

“I can’t argue that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave a comment or kudos, or come talk to me on tumblr at [the-ipre](https://the-ipre.tumblr.com)!


End file.
